we need to be deconstructing our identities
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."